


Set Fire to the Castle

by DawnBently



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Merlin (TV)
Genre: F/M, Reincarnation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-31
Updated: 2012-08-31
Packaged: 2017-11-13 05:48:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,129
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/500168
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DawnBently/pseuds/DawnBently
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She was strange, different from everyone else, and though he was a little different too, it wasn't enough to make her feel like she belonged anywhere. He couldn't hear the voices, and she was too afraid to ask if he saw things in his dreams that came to life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Set Fire to the Castle

**Author's Note:**

  * For [tulipwarrior](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=tulipwarrior).



He met her in Diagon Alley. He was with his mother, she with hers. He'd been trying to find the right wand for himself, with the help of dear old Olivander, and the girl with the pitch black hair and piercing green eyes was standing in the corner staring him down like he was a meal. He tried to ignore her boring holes into the back of his head, but truthfully, he found it utterly distracting. Every time he waved the wrong wand, she was snickering in the background as though every wand in the whole bloody building would bend to her will. So when the right wand found its way into his grasp, he whipped around and flicked it at her, watching with a smug look on his face as a gust of wind came out of nowhere to rip her fancy cloak at the seams. 

His mother pulled him back by the arm, ripping him back so hard that it actually hurt. The gust of wind produced from the tip of his new wand quickly dissipated, and the girl in the corner of the room was left crying about the destroyed state of her fancy cloak. Even at eleven, he could tell that cloak could feed him and his mother for a year. After a thorough scolding, his mother bought the wand and ushered him out of the wand shop, though she paused in the door to add her sincerest apologies to the girl's mother. They were two blocks down the road when she finally turned down to her son, an amused smile on her face. 

"You mustn't do things like that anymore, sweetheart," she told him. She's nudged him into an alleyway between two brick buildings so as to step out of the busy road of Diagon Alley. Bent at the knee, she was eye level with her son, who was grinning at her upon seeing the smile on her face.

"I could've done worse."

"Stop," she told him strongly. "I'm sending you to Hogwarts so you can learn how to use your magic. I will not stand to hear from your teachers that you're abusing your gifts. Do you understand me?" she asked him, then awaited an answer. She narrowed her eyes at him when she realized his attention was otherwise divided. In the background, she could hear the voice of a man, a voice low and deep, followed by a boy's voice. Peering over her shoulder, she eyed the odd pair—a giant man even by large standards, and a little boy so scrawny and little, she wondered if he was malnourished—though they were far too interested in the bookstore to have noticed the mother-son duo watching them. 

"He's special," her son whispered finally, and she whipped back around to meet his gaze. "I can feel… something. I can feel something," he repeated, sounding more sure of himself the second time around. She could see the seriousness plagued with a bit of worry in his eyes, so she reached out to stroke his cheek, as she forced a smile on her lips. She knew that her son had some kind of gift she could never hope to understand, so seeing him so concerned for that boy had her concerned as well. It was blind hope and faith that had her convinced Hogwarts was the best place for him to be. All she really wanted to know was that the old man who'd come to her, nearly begging her to enroll her son in his school, wasn't wrong about him, that he could keep his promise and keep her darling boy safe from the world. 

"Don't worry about him, sweetheart," she told him finally as she rose to her feet and reached out to smooth down his messy black hair. "You'll go to Hogwarts, make some friends, and…" She trailed off as she drew in a deep breath. "And you'll fit in."

He didn't hear her promise as he eyed the black haired girl walking past with her mother. Her cloak was nowhere in sight, but she had a wand in her hand and a vindictive look on her face. 

X

When he was twelve, he was better in control of who he was. Things didn't start floating on their own, and windows didn't explode when he was angry. He still only had one friend at home during the summer, though he didn't have very many more friends at Hogwarts, anyway. Ironically, even at the place where everybody could wave a wand, mutter some words, and cast a spell, he was still the strange boy on the outside. She wasn't. 

They had Herbology together that year. She, flanked on either side with all the other Slytherin girls, was a force to be reckoned with. He, a Gryffindor who was only spoken to by Neville Longbottom, didn't have the same social support system, and that often played into her favor. From the outside, it looked like she just enjoyed picking on him, but he was as aware as she that it was that simple. He couldn't figure out why he was so drawn to her, but he hoped she hadn't figured that out yet. It hadn't occurred to him that she was as drawn to him as he to her. 

When the attacks started, she stopped picking on him, though they still ended up in detention together from a previous transgression on her part that baited him into lasing back. In the Herbology greenhouse after their respective classes were over, they helped Professor Sprout clean out potting plants from all the Mandrake roots she'd uprooted to make the Mandrake potion. Professor Sprout was on the far end of the greenhouse tending to some of her more delicate plants while the two second years were standing together on one end of the long table, a line of dirty pots on either side of them waiting to be cleaned. 

In the middle of cleaning his pot, he turned his head to look at her, taken back, though not really surprised, to find her green eyes already fixated on him. Something in them was different, so he held back any remarks he had, aware that he was always braver to speak up to her when they were alone rather than when her posse was following right behind her. 

"Do you hear it?" she asked, her voice barely any higher than the noise level required for another human to hear it. He narrowed his eyes at her at the question, uncertain exactly of what she meant, but she was quick to clarify. "The voices. Well, just one, but it talks." 

He only shook his head to answer the question, and she turned away from him, though not before he caught the disappointment in her face. He had a feeling she'd not confided in anybody else about the voice she could hear and he couldn't, and part of him was surprised that she'd chosen him to speak to about it. After they cleaned another ten pots in silence, however, he realized that he'd sooner tell her anything strange than any of his acquaintances. When they finished serving their detention, it was in the middle of a class period, so the hallways were fairly empty. At a junction of corridors, he saw her starting to turn a direction he didn't need to go in, so he finally said the words that had been haunting him. 

"Harry does," he said, and though he wasn't looking directly at her, she knew the words were meant for her. Turning back, she narrowed her eyes at him and stared at him quizzically. Slowly, he met her gaze and endured the stare she was sending his way. "He hears it, I think. Harry Potter. Him and his friends are doing something again that they shouldn't be." 

"Opposed to you?" she questioned, voice conveying how certain of herself she was. "I have a feeling you're not supposed to be sneaking around the castle and going into the library after curfew nearly every night."

"How did you know?" he asked her, bypassing the pointless act of denying the accusation. She said nothing as she smirked at him, turned on her heel, and walked away. 

X

It happened on the grounds near the forest. She'd just been wandering aimlessly, or at least that was what she was going to say if anybody asked, when the Dementors came out of nowhere. The last thing she remembered was hearing screaming. Loud, unrelenting screaming that only a person fearful for their very life could emit. Just before everything went black, she saw flames on a castle, but with the growing pain within her, she hadn't paid the sight any more attention than that. When she came to once more, she expected the nurse, or maybe even her mother, to be sitting there or standing nearby to check on her. She'd not expected his warm brown eyes watching her with a curiosity that made her feel like a potions experiment. 

"What are you doing here?" She tried to sound mean and harsh, but her voice was weak and barely every other word came out intelligible. He said nothing as he reached over to pour a glass of water from the pitcher and handed it back to her. Eyes narrowed, she took the glass and raised it to her lips, reveling in the cool water as it moistened her dry scratchy throat. 

"Came to see if you were alright," he answered finally as he took the glass back from her and set it down on the side table. "Luna told me what happened." She laid back on her bed once more, finding her strength had not yet returned. Rolling her head to the side allowed her to eye him as he stared back at her with a rather neutral face as though sitting at her bedside in the Hospital Wing was rather commonplace. The way they used to go at each other, it actually should've been. 

"Who is Luna?" she decided to ask, realizing that there was nothing else she was willing to talk about with him. 

"Luna Lovegood," he answered, and his lips pulled up slightly in a brief smile. "She's a Ravenclaw. Blonde hair, blue eyes. Wears those striped socks and thinks that-"

"I don't care," she said suddenly, and he stopped immediately. "What are you doing here?" she asked again and his eyes started to shift around the room, hinting to her that there was something he was hiding. His coming to her bedside was strange, though somehow still believable, but the fact that he had some ulterior motives made it all make a little more sense to her. 

"I've been doing some reading," he started, and she rolled her eyes as she let out a sigh. "About Dementors." 

"And…? You want to know about my personal experience to further your strange pass time of reading on anything that's trying to make us crazy?"

"Dementors aren't trying to make me crazy," he corrected and before she could find something to throw at him, his lips cracked in a brief but amused smile at his own comment. "And no, not exactly," he added quickly when she started to reach for her wand on the side table. "I uh… I wanted to know if you saw anything when the Dementor… attacked." 

She narrowed her eyes at him and he shifted nervously under her gaze. It would've been easy to tell him about the castle, and now that she was more aware of her surroundings, she'd picked out a few more details from what she saw. There were flashes of blood red cloaks hung around men's necks as they ran, swords in hand, and a crown that sat unattended to on a throne situated in a room with one wall on fire, another made of cold stone. 

"I didn't see anything, so go away."

He was obviously disappointed, but he said nothing further as he stood up and started to walk back around the bed. Before he left the enclosed space of her bed, however, he looked back to her and motioned to the side table. "I uh… got those for you," he said uncomfortably, eyes dodging hers as he shifted his weight from one leg to the other. She turned her head and narrowed her eyes to see a few boxes of chocolate frogs lined up on the side table.

"I don't like chocolate," she lied, her voice a testament to how badly she wanted him away from her. He seemed to take the hint since he darted out rather quickly after that, finally leaving her alone with her thoughts. Perhaps she should've given him a chance, but she didn't want to. She was strange, different from everyone else, and though he was a little different too, it wasn't enough to make her feel like she belonged anywhere. He couldn't hear the voices, and she was too afraid to ask if he saw things in his dreams that came to life. 

X

In their fourth year, everyone was at the lake to watch the second event, leaving the school utterly empty. That gave him more than enough privacy to creep into the Restricted Section with relative ease. He'd even forgone his usual concealing charms given the fact that nobody was around for miles. Usually, he took his time in finding books to read, but this time he had what he was looking for already in mind. It had all come to him on accident, really, when he'd spoken to the Headmaster a few days ago. 

"Reincarnation?" she questioned suddenly, causing his entire person to jerk in surprise. The heavy book he'd been taking down from the shelf clattered to the table noisily and his eyes scanned the area to be sure nobody had heard. She was rolling her eyes as she leaned against the table opposite his as she waited for him to stop being so paranoid. 

"What are you doing in here?" he asked her in a hushed whisper, which seemed pointless given that he'd just made more noise than a stampede of centaurs and nobody had come looking for them. 

"I could ask you that, you know," she replied sharply, and he rolled his eyes as he turned back to the book he'd gone there looking for. "What's that for?"

"None of your business," he replied sharply out of irritation that she'd snuck up on him. 

"Testy."

"Go away." 

"I want to know what you're doing."

"Suddenly you're interested in me beyond floating all my homework into the lake?" he questioned as he turned back around to narrow his eyes at her. She was smiling, apparently amused at the memory of destroying his homework. When she said nothing further, he turned back to the book and started to flip through the pages with his magic, eyes scanning the pages as efficiently as he could manage in hope that he would something—anything—that might answer the questions lingering within him. People shouldn't be able to do the things he could. 

The pages stopped suddenly when she put her hand out and flattened the book with a loud clap. He turned to her, eyes narrowed in annoyance but she wasn't even looking at him. Instead, her eyes were on the book, slightly widened though he couldn't discern what emotion exactly was crossing her expression. Peering at the page she'd stopped it at, he noticed it was something about memories and past lives and how they interacted provided such things as past lives really existed. 

"What is it?" he asked her finally, all the mocking and sarcasm gone from his voice. She only shook her head in response as she continued to stare intently at the page. 

"Nothing," she said softly as she started to blink and step back from the desk, her hand withdrawing from the book as she moved away from it. "It's nothing. Why are you reading about all this?"

"It's… interesting," he answered and suddenly the mildness that had overcome her was gone. With one eyebrow cocked, she turned to him and smirked.

"Interesting?" she repeated, voice full of a mocking tone. "You're a terrible liar. For friends like Harry-bloody-Potter who are always sticking their noses where it can get cut off, you'd best get better at lying." 

"I'm not friends with him," he replied sharply and she laughed as she shook her head and turned away. She walked all the way to the edge of the bookcase before she looked back at him. His eyes hadn't left hers the entire time. 

"If you're not friends with him, why did you talk to that dragon and save his life in the first event?" she questioned, and though her words were phrased like a question, it was a taunt that hung between them. His eyes narrowed defensively and her smirk widened. She even laughed before she turned and continued around the corner. For the three minutes it took her to leave the library, he could still hear the echo of her laugh taunting him like it was a threat. 

X

Under the dictatorship of Dolores Umbridge, he had to set aside his extracurricular activities that happened to break nearly a dozen school rules, which was a shame, to him, given that he'd actually gotten quite far in studying whatever it was that haunted him. He still hadn't expressly told anybody what it was he read up about every spare minute he had, but it was so farfetched, he was certain nobody could put it all together anyway. Well, nobody normal anyway. So he had no qualms in joining Dumbledore's Army, as it filled his time up rather nicely in the void of his reading excursions. 

He was, in fact, headed to the next DA meeting when he ran into her. The next thing he knew, they were pressed up against each other in a broom closet, because the Inquisitorial Squad had been rounding the corner of the corridor they'd been arguing in, and neither could afford to be brought to Dolores Umbridge for breaking any one of her several new rules. 

"What are you touching?" she demanded in a hushed voice, as she craned her neck to look up at him. He just stared down at her with narrowed eyes lit up in annoyance at how she automatically assumed his hands were roaming places where they shouldn't be. 

"The door and that shelf," he answered in an equally hushed tone. Just beyond the door, they could hear the obnoxious laughter of the Slytherins as they bounded down the hallway with an air of superiority that he wanted nothing more than to suck out from around them. "Why don't you just go and join your friends?" he added, voice dropping lower when they could tell the Inquisitorial Squad had drawn nearer. They were probably right outside the door of their broom cupboard. 

"They're not my friends," she answered, sounding more defeated than annoyed, which quickly made his face shift from annoyed to confused. "They don't…" she started, then realized who she was speaking to and hardened her face once more as she glared at him."If you're touching a shelf, why is there a hand on my side?"

"Maybe it's yours," he answered, and she rolled her eyes. 

"Why would I want to feel myself up?" 

"Why would I want to?" 

"Flattery won't get you anywhere," she told him sarcastically and he actually laughed at the comment. Outside, the Inquisitorial Squad went suddenly silent and she narrowed her eyes at him so intensely, he wasn't sure if he should be more frightened of her or the students outside. After a few more moments, however, the voices outside resumed and footsteps started to carry them further down the hallway. She sighed in relief, but her hand slipped and she fell forward, effectively pushing their bodies together more so than before. 

"They had to have heard that," he said as he tilted his head up to avoid looking at her cheek pushed against his chest. 

"Maybe they're exceptionally stupid."

"Obviously. That doesn't mean their deaf," he told her through gritted teeth. In their current position, he could feel her body shaking as she laugh silently. 

"That is so your hand," she said as she stopped laughing, but she didn't otherwise move. 

"Yeah, well, look at where your hand is," he replied and she started to wiggle her fingers to feel where her hand was located. "Not that one," he told her annoyingly when her fingers started to push on his arm. As a result, she started to move her other hand, and he nearly jumped at the movement causing her to pull back, resulting in yet another crash as he fell down to the floor, she onto his lap, and a shelf onto her back. "I didn't say to move it," he told her when everything falling had settled down.

"Obviously, they're gone, so whenever you're done blushing like a school girl, do feel free to get us out of here." 

"So demanding," he told her as he reached up with one arm, but in his current position, he couldn't reach the doorknob. As a consequence, she started to move in her own attempt to open the door, but he moved on instinct when her body was getting to close to specific areas of his. 

"If you just stopped squirming-"

"Stop moving," he told her, ignoring the fact that she was speaking. 

"I almost had it!" 

"I don't care!" 

Another ill-advised movement later, they were face to face against the door of the closet, lips so close that he could smell the mint on her breath. "You're touching my side."

"You're climbing on my lap," he replied, speaking in as soft a whisper as she. 

"You're not blushing anymore," she commented, and he nodded in agreement, but that little shift in the position of his head led to their lips brushing together. It was a barely-there touch of lips, yet enough to make both freeze exactly where they were. Eyes locked each other, they stared back and forth, both willing the other to do something they could follow suit, though neither knew if they wanted to scramble out of the closet or shift their heads to the side and forward just once more. Eventually, she licked her lips, tightened her hold on his shoulder, and leaned forward. It was the first time she let herself stop being so afraid of him and let herself feel. 

X

It was a push and pull from that moment on. Sometimes they couldn't stand each other, and sometimes, they both skipped dinner, though nobody ever really put their collective absences together. Usually, they found an empty classroom or closet in that empty part of the castle, but every once and a while, they went to the only place in the castle where both felt relatively at ease. In the restricted section of the library, they were very rarely at odds. She could read on what she wanted, and he could read on what he wanted, and they could enjoy a few distracting, if not well placed, kisses in between. 

Then, one time, she looked over at his book instead of hers and managed to read along a few lines before he noticed. Immediately, he pushed the book over and turned to her, eyes narrowed defensively. She only stared at him as he hoarded the book to his far side where she couldn't see it anymore. "What are you reading about?" she asked finally, voice low so as not to alert anybody to their presence. They were enjoying the fruits of a flawless concealment charm he casted. 

"Nothing," he answered sharply and she raised an eyebrow at him. She started to turn back to her book, though in the back of her mind she couldn't stop thinking about all the little things about him that had never really added up. She didn't know he was doing the same to her. 

"A castle on fire," she said suddenly, her eyes locked on the page of the book in front of her. She was so hyperaware of him, however, that if the book was written in another language, she probably wouldn't have even noticed. "And men in red cloaks carrying swords. And a crown. A throne. A queen, I think." 

"Are we blurting out random words?"

"What I saw when the Dementors attacked me," she answered, ignoring his sarcasm. Slowly, she forced her eyes to him, willing her heart to stop beating so fast. She'd never told anyone about that before, and she'd done enough reading on her own to know that Dementors made people relive their worst memories. Except, that wasn't a memory. It wasn't even a dream she had that came true. It was just a terrible image that had been branded into her mind since the time she was thirteen. 

His eyes narrowed at her suddenly as the meaning of her words sunk in. She knew he was aware of what Dementors did, so she figured he was working through how she could've seen such a thing. She assumed he'd taken for granted that what she saw hadn't been a memory. 

"Never mind," she said quickly as she slammed shut the book she'd been reading and started to stand. Before she moved another inch, however, his hand shot out and took hold of her wrist. 

"Is there anything else?" he asked her softly, but she could feel the intensity of his gaze and his question. 

"No," she answered in as harsh a tone as she could manage as she ripped her arm from his grasp. It was dramatic, but she didn't care as she stormed out of the aisle of the library and turned the corner. 

She avoided him from that moment on. Even when he went out of his way to irritate her and bait her into another argument, she never gave in. He could see the resistance in her eyes, the sheer stubbornness she possessed that kept her from returning to his embrace or even his argumentative presence. It came to the point where all he had was a reproduction of a painting depicting Camelot torn from a book in the restricted section and a desperate need to get her to talk to him again. 

As though she could hear his thoughts from the other side of the Great Hall, her eyes snapped up suddenly and locked on his. Her eyes narrowed at him critically and he couldn't shake the feeling that she was weighing something in her mind that had to do with him. Her movements were jerky and harsh as she tried to turn back to her meal and pretend to be interested in her friends' conversations. 

"Hey!" Luna called out suddenly, pulling his attention back to her. 

"Sorry," he replied as he blinked and focused her eyes on her. She just shook her head and shrugged her shoulders as though his distraction was of no consequence, yet he could see the disappointment clear in her eyes. He looked down at his plate to gather a bite on his fork, but out of the corner of his eyes, he could see Luna looking over her shoulder to spot who it was pulling his attention away from her. The disappointment was only intensified when she noticed which Slytherin it was distracting him. They said nothing for the rest of dinner, which ended abruptly for him since he jumped out of his seat to dash after the Slytherin when she left early. 

She had to have known he was following her, but she continued forward as though he wasn't. They went down two hallways and rounded another corner before she whipped around to face him, wand up and pointed at him. He was taken aback by the response, evident by his widened eyes and shocked expression. "How did you do that?" she demanded suddenly, and his eyes went from wide in shock to narrow in confusion. 

"Do what?" he asked her, eyes dropping to the tip of her wand when she advanced on him. She stopped when she was two steps in front of him, but with her arm outstretched, her wand was pressing uncomfortably into the column of his neck. "I don't know what you're talking about," he admitted, but he regretted it instantly. Her eyes flashed as she dropped her arm to her side and started to retreat. "Tell me what it is," he said, sounding desperate as he matched her steps. She failed her arms to push his away, but eventually he caught up to her and managed to put his hands on her sides. "I don't think you're crazy," he told her softly, their foreheads pressed together. Despite all the things they'd done together, that gesture felt more intimate than anything else they'd ever shared. 

"I hear voices." 

"I talk to dragons." 

"I have dreams that come true," she finally admitted, and he could hear how that distressed her just by the sound of her voice.

"I know," he replied and she pushed on his chest to glare at him more effectively. "I know," he repeated as he fought against her pushing him away. He'd even been so bold as to reach out and touch her cheek. She shut her eyes so tightly that tears he hadn't know were there squeezed out and rolled down her cheek. Slowly, he leaned forward to brush his lips against where the tears were to pull them away. 

"How could you know?" she asked, voice barely above a whisper, though he heard her perfectly since they were rather closely pressed together. Pulling away slowly, he met her gaze and reached into the inner pocket of his cloak to pull out the folded up page he'd torn out from a book he stumbled onto accidentally in the restricted section. 

"Is this the castle that was on fire?" he asked her softly as he unfolded it and held it up for her inspection. She wiped her eyes before she took the page from him and forced herself to look at the page. He just watched as her expression went from devastated to confused and settling on recognition. 

"What is this?" she demanded as her eyes went up to him. "Who are they?"

"King Arthur and Queen Guinevere. That's his sister Morgana, and their advisor Merlin," he answered pointing to each of the people. "And that's Camelot in the background. Camelot's knights, they wore red cloaks."

She crumbled the page when her fingers balled up into a fist, but he wasn't very concerned with it at the moment. "What-" she started, but stopped. She was breathing too fast and her thoughts were everywhere. 

"Morgana, she's a witch. She's also a Seer, and from what I read, her visions came to her in dreams before she was able to better control her magic. And I think she talked to snakes. Our second year, it was a basilisk-" 

"I don't care," she said harshly as she pushed back on him. She was actually a slight girl, so her effort would've meant nothing had he not allowed her to push him away. "This is ridiculous! Do you have any idea how insane you sound," she accused as she pushed the crumbled up page into his chest. She withdrew from him before he could take the page back, so it fell uselessly to the ground. 

"Merlin feels magically beings, and I felt you, and I felt Harry Potter. He can talk to people telepathically, and maybe that's what I did tonight without trying to. He can do things that people, even magical beings-"

"Insane," she repeated before he could finish. "That's how you sound," she told him simply. For a long moment, they stared back and forth until she took one step back, then two, then three. Finally, she turned and walked down the hallway, glancing back every so often to be sure he didn't follow her. 

X

He put all the final pieces together over the summer, but he couldn't risk sending her an owl with the full explanation. He couldn't even properly say goodbye to his mother before running so he could get a few days start on the Snatchers, who were undoubtedly hunting for him and all other Muggle-borns alike. After managing to find some shelter, he spent a good number of weeks trying to find the right spells. Having the knowledge of who he once was gave him the determination to continue pushing until he finally succeeded in the spell he needed most. As it was the first time he'd ever casted it successfully, he didn't know how long he could trust it to hold, so he moved quickly. 

Friends—people he'd never really regarded as anything more than acquaintances—were more than accommodating when he set foot in the castle's walls. Under hooded cloaks, he did somehow manage to move secretly throughout the castle as he plotted his next moves. Luna and Neville accommodated him the most, but that was not really surprising. The surprising part was when she walked straight into the Room of Requirement, eyes hard and locked on him. Luna and Neville were off to the side, but when he turned to them, they only nodded and started to leave the room. 

Nobody had said it directly to him, but he'd heard the whispers. At some point over the years, others had put together than he wasn't really normal, and he assumed they thought he had some secret plan to help Harry Potter win his war. If she helped him do that, then Neville and Luna were more than willing to let them have the room. Truthfully, wars did not appeal to him, especially after spending the whole summer reading about wars he once waged with King Arthur in the name of Camelot. 

"How did you find me?" he asked her. She said nothing because Neville and Luna were still not yet out of the room. She waited for the door to close behind them before she met his gaze again. That time, her eyes were a bit softer, though it was a hardly noticeable change. 

"I-" she started but stopped herself. Shutting her eyes tightly, she drew in a breath and shook her head back and forth as though she could not believe what she was about to admit. Finally, when she'd gathered up her nerve—not that he'd ever known her to be weak—she met his gaze again. "I did some reading," she declared simply, and he cracked a smile at it. He knew what she meant, thus sparing her the need to completely explain herself. "And I… I may have tested some of your theories and come to a conclusion after doing so."

"Tested? Tested how?"

"How do you think I knew where to find you?"

"I don't know," he answered with a shrug. "You-" He stopped himself when he finally realized what he was saying. She rolled her eyes and let out a breath in annoyance. Despite that, he smiled and laughed as he watched her. She turned away from him at the response she got, but it wasn't enough to make him look away. "You worked on the visions, didn't you?"

"He's Arthur," she answered, avoiding the question, yet answering it at once. 

"I know," he replied with a nod. "I worked that much out, too. The girl. She's Guinevere." 

"He doesn't need you," she told him, voice hard and determined. "I already saw it. No matter what happens, you don't make a difference. His fate is set, and no amount of power you have will change it. He's done. His friends, they'll all be dead in a month's time, you included."

"I told you a long time ago, I wasn't friends with him." 

"Then why did you come?" she demanded as she strode towards him. In Slytherin green and silver, she was a sight to behold. Her pitch black hair was falling in curls and contrasting wonderfully against the paleness of his skin, which only made the green of her eyes pop. Her eyes narrowed defensively when she noticed his attention was elsewhere. 

"Who said I came for him?" he finally asked her and she scoffed as she shook her head. 

"You're mad if you think-"

He silenced her with a kiss. It was the most effective way to stop her from berating him for one thing or another, and he'd put the practice to use several times over the years but that time was different. It wasn't just an end to an argument but to prove a point. Her hands were hesitant to touch him even after he'd wrapped his arms around her waist, but eventually, she did thread her fingers through his hair and move her lips to match his rhythm. 

"Run with me," he told her softly, their lips still close enough to brush together when he spoke. "Staying here won't do you any good."

"I survive," she replied in a breath. He kept only one arm around her waist while his other hand traveled up her side, his fingers molding to her curves. "I survive the war by staying here."

"And me?"

"You die." 

"That's cheery," he said sarcastically, but she didn't laugh. She forced herself to push on his shoulders to create some space between them. Though he tried to hide it, he knew some of his disappointment showed in his eyes. 

"I'm serious." 

"I know. Run with me anyway."

"Do you ever hear yourself?" 

"Yes, occasionally," he answered, feeling a little defensive out of response to her offensive tone of voice. "It's you who never listens even when I'm right." She huffed as she started to walk away from him, and he couldn't bring himself to reach out to stop her. At the door, however, she turned back on her own violation and met his gaze. 

"He dies, in one month," she told him, voice softer than before. "I saw it. And I haven't had a false vision, ever. You're better off running."

"You'll just see another castle on fire if you stay here."

"How much reading did you do on Camelot?" she asked him, one eyebrow raised to give him the impression it was a trick question. 

"A lot."

"Well, I saw it," she replied sharply. He'd expected that much. "History likes to repeat itself. This time, don't die for him like you did before. It didn't do anything then, it won't do anything now."

"I told you. I'm not friends with him, nor did I return for him."

"Then you're no less foolish now than before," she told him before she turned and let herself out of the room. He lingered there until the remaining DA members eventually started to trickle into the room once more. Everyone's eyes were on him like they were expecting him to explain what his plan was. Rather than meet any of their gazes, he kept packing his bag, thoughts running faster than he could handle. Luna's hand on the small of his back pulled him into the present.

"What should we do?" she asked him gently, and he craned his neck to meet her gaze. 

"You're all going to be fine," he told them, earning a bit of commotion from the crowd. It wasn't exactly as sizable as the DA used to be, but there were still more people paying him attention than he was accustomed to. 

"You're just leaving us? Leaving Harry?" Neville questioned, the betrayal he felt clear in his voice. 

"You don't need me, Neville," he answered as he stepped away from Luna to stand before Neville. Dropping his voice so only Neville could hear him, he continued, "You just have to have faith. When it comes to the end, and you think it's over, have faith. I promise, Harry doesn't need me. He needs you." 

Since Neville made no move to stop him from leaving Hogwarts, nobody else did either. Anybody who thought any less of him for leaving quickly forgot him when Neville, wielding the Sword of Gryffindor, distracted Lord Voldemort long enough for Harry to make quite the show. In the background, the black haired Slytherin was more than shocked to find her vision hadn't really shown everything she thought it had. 

X

He was hiding away from the world, his mind lost in a stack of books as he tried to connect to a life that was both his own and yet lost in a history book. He'd answered a lot of the big lingering questions like who he was, what he'd done, why he was different. But there were other things that he wanted to know. Those were the specifics that he could never get out of a book. He wanted to know what it was like to be Court Sorcerer. He wanted to know if he was strange to people then as he was currently. The only thing he was sure of was that she surprised him as much then as she had at that moment. 

He was startled by the hand that touched his shoulder, and she laughed as he gathered his composure once more. She was, actually, all too amused at his frightened state as he tried to move the books that nearly caved in on him. "So," she started before he could finish situating himself. "It seems that my vision was true, but I was missing something."

"A vital something," he answered as he got to his feet and turned to her. She narrowed her eyes at him, unappreciative of the comment. He laughed as she continued stare at him in that manner. "How'd you find me?"

"Same way as before," she answered as she looked away and picked up a book sitting on the corner of a nearby desk. She idly looked over the cover and inspected the spine before she flipped open the cover and looked at the inner pages of the book. "Plus, when you walk into any library Muggle, Magical, or Imaginary, and ask who's that crazy guy checking out all the Arthurian legend, everyone's answer is pretty much the same."

He laughed despite himself, and as she set down the book and looked up at him, she was actually smiling at him. "Would you care to hear what I've learned?"

"Do I want to know?"

"You were a traitor."

"Ok," she said harshly as she turned and started to walk away. That time, he stopped her, forced her back, and pressed their lips together. The kiss lasted all of three seconds before they started to laugh against the kiss, though they maintained it all the same.

**Author's Note:**

> This was actually written in response to the prompt:
> 
> a Mergana fic where Morgana and Merlin are both at Hogwarts together and have a really angsty, love/hate relationship, but ultimately give in to falling completely and utterly head-over-heels for each other
> 
> I'm not actually sure how well is did with the angsty part, but I think I got the love/hate thing, and overall, I'm kind of uncertain about this piece. But it's up anyway.
> 
> Thoughts?


End file.
